


Mental State

by TyJaxReaper



Series: OC Solos [6]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Dark Themed, It's AHS, Murder, Murder Kink, what d'you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxReaper/pseuds/TyJaxReaper
Summary: “Shhh. It’ll be over soon,” he whispered comfortingly as he inched closer to the reddening bed, leaning his hands on the edge of the mattress, the knife still held in a tight grip. She’d only whimpered again, though more dull. She was on the verge of the loss of life, on the edge of death.“Just… let go,”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to get something on American Horror Story for some time, after the Tate/Stiles I did, and I'm really glad I waited until Hotel to actually play with an OC in that universe. Yeah, he's Dylan O'Brien, but I wanted to make an OC out of him and it was a great idea, in my opinion, to give him the names of two well known killers. Michael Myers and Jason Voohees. :) Damn terrifyingly cool ideas. I love it xD 
> 
> I've basically made Jason Myers my Pscho-OC/Sociopath-OC.

**Jason Myers**

He watched impassively, staring down with a flat, emotionless gaze. He watched her writhing with the knife wounds, the blood leaking fast and thick, spreading and oozing across the floor like lava cascading down a hill. Jason loved the sight, got off on it. He found it fascinating, enthralling and addicting. It was just a matter of timing and the place. And thankfully, he’d found his best luring-grounds. This Hotel, huge, a maze of hallways upon hallways at every corner. Hotel Cortez, or whatever.

Luring was easy. He had two, maybe three ways of getting himself a victim. Obviously, there was the easy way, _too_ easy in his opinion. A prostitute on the corner, a real Ripper tactic. There was the casual way, picking up a sex partner for the night, from a dating or sex site. And then there was the fun way. Kidnapping. The fun was in the _How_. He could either case a house, taking in the details and how he’d break in and all that, following them to get an idea on their schedule. Everything was in the detail. And Jason loved his detail.

Like how the blood was running down her face as she stared at him in utter fear and silence as the light started to dull in her gaze. This one was a date, a girl he picked up from a site. He was in a very neutral mood, so he went with a simpler kill, a random girl with family in a state over that wouldn’t realize she was missing until months later. She was the _run away, but occasionally calls_ type. So, there would eventually be posters hanging around, just not for some time.

He slowly dropped to a crouch, his elbows resting on his knees with his knife hanging between them. He was still watching with his usual impassive exterior, staring at the red running over her skin, like a raindrop running down a window. Or maybe thick tears… melted ice cream running down the outside rim of a bowl? That could work too.

There was a whimper, her body flinching and twitching just the slightest from her nerves-system shutting down. The dying was the fun of the kill itself, watching her life drain and empty from their pretty eyes. It was entertainment, _his_ entertainment.

“Shhh. It’ll be over soon,” he whispered comfortingly as he inched closer to the reddening bed, leaning his hands on the edge of the mattress, the knife still held in a tight grip. She’d only whimpered again, though more dull. She was on the verge of the loss of life, on the edge of death.

“Just… let go,” Jason spoke smoothly, low and as soft as he could, watching her as she still tried to stare back at him, as if expecting or wanting to be helped, to be saved. She wouldn’t live. And not just because he wouldn’t save his victim, no. It was because she was so close to death that she’d die before he even finished a call to the hospital, or police, or even yelled down the hall for anyone’s aid. She was already dead.

And dead she was. Her eyes finally lost that little spark, that little glint of life. Her gaze turned dull, a plain colour and she still had her dead eyes on him, watching him even in the afterlife.

The uforia was like a warm rush racing down his spine, a heated blow to his stomach, and Jason let a smile curve into his lips, his own gaze turning soft. His muscles were instantly lax, losing the taut tension and he dropped forward against the mattress, his chin and mouth dropping to the stained bedsheets, thankfully, not in the blood itself. He had a fierce grip on the sheet, his knife still there and he stared and stared, and stared so hard, he was sure that if it were possible, there’d be holes of where he bored into her. The sight was so intoxicating, so alluring and addicting.

“That was quite the show,” Jason snapped his head to the other side of the room, over his shoulder. He quickly stood, knife in hand and he was instantly ready for a second round, only… the hand rising so casually, so easily to halt him, and the man seemed completely unfazed by what he saw. “Please, you’re quite safe with me, old boy,” that was a weird… speech-thing he had going. It wasn’t the 20s. “In fact, it was rather enjoyable. I haven’t had a good show in some time,”

“Not callin’ the cops?” Jason stared back, his impassive expression still there. He was as exteriorly unfazed as the man that had just seen him kill a random woman. And he seemed genuinely interested, or intrigued. The look he was giving him, the eyes watching him with an almost calculating stare.

“Why would I? I’d have only called them if this wasn’t as entertaining as it was,” this guy was odd, clearly having a mental break of some kind. Any normal person would have called the police, had gotten someone’s attention at least. Either he was a complete lunatic, a psychopath, or he was just an odd guy having a lapse.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Jason replied flatly, cautiously turning back to the body while keeping an ear out on the man behind him. The fun was over and now it was time for the heavy lifting and less fun part. The hiding of the body. Cutting them into pieces usually worked, bagging them in black trash bags with rocks and then throwing them to the ocean. They sank fast and he hadn’t been caught yet, so that was still his method of disposal.

“There’s a much easier way to make a body disappear,” and that caught his attention. He turned away from the body to stare at the still casually smirking man, seeming a bit smug that he had Jason for the moment, had his focus in their current situation. A dead body was an urgent matter. He needed to get rid of it as soon as possible after he satisfied that urge of his.

“I’m aware,” he said instead, having half the impulse to ask him ‘what of it’. “I have a pretty good method of disposal,” black bags, ocean, rocks in said bags, sinking bodies. Who’d find them at the bottom of the ocean miles out at sea?

“What if I told you that I had a secret, little way to make sure that they were never seen again,” Jason watched him carefully, enticed by the idea. But he said nothing, only stared. “And that way happened to be inside this very building,”

“I’m listening,” he’d replied after a moment of silence, eyeing him over as he gained more of his attention. It’d be easier, he wouldn’t have to go out of his way to make sure that he wouldn’t be caught at the docks, on his way to his boat to get rid of his body. He’d just have to be careful of witnesses, but from the ease and confidence this man had, he’d assumed that maybe that wouldn’t really be much of a problem.

“I’ll tell you, on one condition,” there was always a damn catch. Jason sighed quietly to himself, pocketing a hand as his posture loosened just the slightest.

“Go on,” he drawled. He’d at least hear him out. If it was too much, he’d just take the body apart and go about what he’d planned on doing in the first place. Plain and simple as it usually was.

“When I ask, I’d like you to bring back a victim for me,” … unexpected. But not really bad. He could do that. Hire a prostitute or two, bring them back and get his money back once they were finished. That was what he tended to do when he got himself a street whore.

“Got yourself a deal,” Jason let the corner of his lips curve, reaching his hand out towards the other man. Said man gradually strode towards him, his own smirk growing at the agreement Jason had just accepted.

“Then we have an accord,” the man reached his own hand out and grasped his palm, giving him a firm shake in a strong grip. “James Patrick March,” he’d introduced, his smirk becoming toothy.

“Jason Myers,” he replied shortly after.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed. Let me know what you think and if you have an idea for what I could do with a few other OC's. Totally open to suggestions. These are fun to write :D


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